Code Name: Blondie

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Not that any of that mattered to him.

“Try to hold him. He can be very strong, I warn you.”

“Just do it,” she said tensely. “We’ll be fine, won’t we, honey?” She stroked the dog’s silky head.

Truman lay limp and cold. Max could no longer feel a pulse. He found the carotid artery and injected the stimulant. If this didn’t work, he could do CPR—even a cardiac thump, part of his advanced field training. But beyond that…

He forced away the thought. He’d never left a man behind in battle and he damned well wasn’t going to lose Truman. The injection done, he smoothed the Lab’s fur, checking for a pulse.

Nothing.

Miki watched his face, her fingers smoothing the Lab’s soft hair. Their shared worry tightened, a thread of emotion that built until it stretched between them, deep and tangible. Max could almost feel her anxious breath, the brush of her thigh, even though they weren’t touching.

Suddenly Truman wheezed. His tail banged Max’s leg weakly. With a sharp surge of relief, Max saw the dog’s eyes open. The Lab twitched hard, looked up at Miki, then lapped her face with his wet tongue.

Most women would have gasped and squirmed away. But this woman laughed in pure exuberance, brushing Truman’s nose with hers and ruffling the dog’s fur. “About time you came around, big guy. Come on, give Aunt Miki a kiss.”

Limp but eager, Truman burrowed closer against her chest, his nose shoved under her shirt directly atop her breast.